I cry silently into some moss which covers the bottom of one of many trees.

I've been doing so for hours, and Finnegan hasn't interrupted, luckily.

I continue for a few more minutes, only stopping because I'm interrupted. Not by Finnegan, but by the anthem.

Two tributes have died in the past day; district 5's boy, and of course, Zamuel. As his face illuminates the sky I feel another stab of pain pass through me.

It's a mix of emotions: grief, guilt, anger.

Anger at whoever tainted the food.

Guilt because in a small part of me I feel it was best for Zamuel to die now, rather than me or Finnegan have to kill him later. At least he died quickly. Before he even knew what was happening.

Who am I kidding, trying to make excuses. I feel as if it's completely my fault.

A voice in my head tells me it's not my fault, but then there's another voice, one which reminds me of my sins and blames Zamuel's death entirely on me, and me alone.

I feel as if I'm losing my sanity a little, conflicting with two voices in my head.

But I'm swaying towards believing the voice which says it's my fault.

I shouldn't, I really shouldn't, though.

It'll drive me insane.

'It was my fault, wasn't it?' I say out loud all of a sudden. 'Finnegan?'

'No,' he shakes his head. 'Of course it wasn't. It was nowhere near your fault.'

'You're lying to make me feel better,' I say, accusation in my voice.

'I'm not,' says Finnegan, turning his head to look me straight in the eyes. 'I mean it.'

'Okay,' I say quietly and curl up into a ball and rock myself back and forth. This may be seen as a sign of instability mentally to some viewers, but to me it's an attempt at having fun. The gentle rocking I do almost reminds me of mine and Finnick's little boat back home, the way it moves when a small wave flows beneath us.

That night I have a million nightmares.

Finnick's mutilated body.

Jacob standing over Finnegan, a bloodied knife in hand and a smile carved in his face.

Edrie being reaped.

Edrie and Coby being reaped at the same time.

Capitol citizens grabbing me after I win the Games.

And Zamuel lying there, dead. Or so it seems, he gets to his feet, begins to blame me for his death. I don't disagree.

I wake up with a start, covered in my own sweat. My own grief will be my undoing.

Finnegan is already awake. 'Another gone in the night,' he says.

'Any idea who?'

'The boy from 8, I suspect. Possibly 3.'

'What do you think got them?' I shudder.

'Jacob. He's angry.'

'Angry?' I say, bewildered. 'But why? Zamuel's dead, he must've seen. Surely he must be happy in some sick way.'

'I suppose. But he's angry he didn't get to kill Zamuel himself. Or kill us, for that matter.'

'Oh.' And I know that Jacob will work extra hard to kill us. He won't appreciate having been escaped from.